Drabbles
by OceanPenguin
Summary: COMPLETE! In which questions are asked, and answers are written.
1. The Whistling Kettle

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride.**

The Whistling Kettle

I sat on the couch, my eyes zeroed in on the TV with Angel and Nudge. Nudge had insisted on a _Pretty Little Liars_ marathon, and had begged that I stay to observe, in her words, "their superior outfits". I was about to respond when Angel whipped out a large bowl of popcorn, and, shoving it into my hands, motioned for Nudge to speak. "You'll get the whole bowl. And we won't steal, and we'll refill it as many times as you want us to, and-"

I had cut her off right then and there, grabbing the bowl and plopping onto the couch. "So, when's the marathon starting?"

Just then, a screeching noise erupted from the kitchen, reminding me instantly of the good ol' times, when Lissa Dean's multiple hissy fits permeated school. I used to be the main perpetrator until the principal threatened to suspend me, causing Mom ground me. I stopped, but who's to keep me from reminiscing?

Speaking of reminiscing, I wanted to rip that sound out of my memory. It clawed at my poor ears, twisting and grappling for some hand hold. It hurt. Unfortunately, due to my mom's love for tea, the entire household had to listen to the kettle every afternoon.

"Kettles are annoying," I grumbled. "That sound hurts."

That _sound_ continued. Oddly enough, I glimpsed Nudge and Angel smirking out of the corner of my eye. Angel decided to enlighten me. "That's not a kettle, Max. That's Lissa." Sure enough, I caught an eyeful of red hair outside my window. Judging by the chocolate and ice cream mess outside, Lissa probably had a stain on her shirt and she was whining in pain, one of my favorite sights to see. Just then, a loud strident scream pierced the house. That was the kettle, all right.

I shuddered and covered my ears. That whistling kettle really did sound too much like Lissa for comfort.

* * *

 **Two Weeks Later**

Survey Question: How much do you like the sound of a whistling kettle? Rate on a scale of 1 to 10.

My Response: Negative googel. The kettle isn't whistling so much as outright throwing a hissy fit, much Redheaded Wonder. Have you heard the kettle whistle? I don't think whistling can be applied when the sound is rather like a banshee screaming: piercing, shrilling, and pitched high enough to properly damage human hearing. Painful!

Lissa: 10. Isn't the tune beautiful? It sounds just like me!

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys, this idea just popped into my head. I had heard a kettle whistling for the first time a few weeks ago, and I shot out of my seat in surprise. Of all the descriptions I've read of a whistling kettle, I've never imagined the whistling would be in such a high pitch. Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	2. The Quote

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride.**

The Quote

I held back a bubble of laughter. Peering carefully at the shirt, I read the quote on it again.

And again.

And again.

There's my sunshine for the day. Yup. I bobbed my head up and down. Totally true. Only problem is, no one really ogles one another under the water. That...that'd be too weird. I mean, I know I don't. Not like I've been watching Fang or anything. Definitely not admiring his clean, smooth strokes, his black, glistening hair, his... I sigh deeply. Ah, well. It did hold true for some people.

 _We swim because we are too sexy to do a sport that requires clothes._

* * *

 **A/N: This just popped into my head. I have no idea where it came from. Any thoughts, comments? Please review! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Jumping the Axel

Max PoV

* * *

She could do this. It was just a jump with 540 degrees of air rotation.

Just one and a half turns from a forward takeoff.

Just-she clutched her head, focusing on her ice skates, closing her eyes to keep the hope from welling up. Hope that she would be able to land the jump without falling.

Her pants were soaked from the moisture on the ice rink. She'd fallen once, twice, too many times to count. She'd pick herself up and promise herself she wouldn't try again _,_ but the dangling hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd land it this time would keep her trying like a dog chasing a bone just out of reach. Her toe picks would launch her up into the air. Her shoulders would be square. She was too good to land on her head.

She took a deep breath, and leaped.

* * *

A/N: The axel is a difficult jump in figure skating that involves leaping into the air from a forward takeoff position. Most skaters take a year before they start landing their axel consistently. Hi guys, what do you think? Review to leave your comments below! If you have any questions, just PM me.


	4. Noticing Him

She notices him during the second quarter of the school year. She remembers she was sitting with Max and Fang when he caught her eye with his loud, neon clothes. _How gauche,_ she thinks to herself, and with a second glance to see just exactly _what_ he is wearing, she is suddenly caught in his web of charisma.

He was gesturing at something, his blond hair framing his face, while the sunlight behind him illuminates his silhouette, painting him as an angel. His hair glints, she observes, as his eyes light up and his mouth stretches into a smile. Suddenly, the world rushes back in a whirl of color. She realizes that Max and Fang are staring at her, worry in their eyes. She realizes why.

"It's fine, guys. You know how I zone out sometimes," She winks. "Just being Nudge." She smiles and shrugs off their concerns.

The bell rings, and she leaves for her next class. During sixth period French, she learns that his name is Iggy.

* * *

A/N: In this story, the school year is divided into two semesters, which are further divided into two quarters each. So, there are four quarters in a school year. Hi guys, what do you think? Review to leave your comments below! If you have any questions, just PM me.


	5. Secret

She watches him from afar. She knows that she has the last class of the day, French, with him. She looks forward to seeing him each day because somehow, being near him both calms and intensifies her crush.

(But it's alright. She'd take the calm any time.)

The ache in her chest never seems to go away. Sometimes, it hurts so much that only her phone will soothe her. She follows him on any social media she knows he has an account on.

(Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat.)

She friends him on Facebook, and asks for his other accounts.

(He uses the same username for all of them: Iggydabomb).

She thinks she's gone crazy. She knows that what she's doing could be labeled as stalking, but she can't help herself. She often rubs her chest from the ache. She blames it on hormones.

(An excuse she knows will only last so long.)

It's a secret. For now.


	6. Neighborhood Tour

Thank you for signing up for the tour of our neighborhood. Yes, yes, I know you signed up for the tour of a flaming banshee's body, but the flaming banshee died the first time we set her on fire and dissected her body (who knew that dissection kills people?) so here we are. A tour of our neighborhood. First stop, She.

She's dancing in the streets, out in the open rain. Water pours down her back and flows up into her hair, an odd sight if you'd ever seen one. Normally, I'd tell others to avoid that odd individual who's clearly gone wonky-I mean, do you know anyone who prances around in a fancy dress, heels dangling in one hand, messy hair draped over the shoulder? Well, now you do. She.

It's seven in the morning. Neighbors, what neighbors? stare. Dogs bark. Trees breathe. Birds poop. And life goes on. Move along now, the person I used to know (She) is not happy to be stared at.

Ready, guys? Stop two is-

Ooh, look! Another odd scene. Now, if we look closer, it seems as if a small child is falling into an older child's arms, repeatedly. And if we strain our ears, we can hear one say..."Sis, it's too hard. I can't fake faint."

"Yes, you can." The older one was determined to teach her younger sister. "Now, darling, watch me. Hand over heart, head back-"

"Why are we doing this?" The younger one asked. "You're looking at the sky."

"Correct. Just like a headless chicken." The older one put one hand on her heart, and fell backwards into the grass in an imitation of an 18th century English lady. "Did you see that?"

Er... I'm quite sure we're living in the 21st century, so fainting to trap men into advantageous marriages is no longer needed. . . right? Hope so.

And for the name of that stop is The Fainting Sisters which is stop...99. Wait! Driver! That's the wrong direction! You'll drive us off a

clif

f St

op!

!

Sorry guys, end of tour. Anyone want tickets to the afterworld? It's free!

* * *

 **A/N: Oddly thought of this when listening to Meghan Trainor's _Walkashame_. Any thoughts, suggestions or prompts? Reviews are like candy, guys. Trick or treat?**


	7. A New Species

I've made an astonishing discovery-a new species has been found. These organisms may appear to be a species of the genus _Homeo_ , and they seem to have mated with the other species of the genus _Homeo,_ a.k.a _females_. Now, these new species are called males. It seems that each female must make the discovery of a male by herself.

Odd.

Come closer. If we take a careful look through these bushes here, we may see some ... _males._ They seem to be doing regular, species stuff, mainly eating, walking, and talking. Astonishing. Let us further observe these... _males_. They seem to be walking and pointing at a specific group of bushes,

straight

at

us.

Oops. Our cover has been blown. Clearly, we are not made for environmental spying. It seems that there is only one choice left.

I popped out of the bushes, tape measure in hand. "Hello, may I observed your physical body up close?"

"Max, I don't think this is the time-"

Ah. Males can speak. I furiously scribbled my observation onto my clipboard. Blue eyes, blond hair, a gangly, thin body. Blue eyes, blond hair, a muscular body. Unfortunate. I was looking for a hmm, I don't know, a more black-haired black-eyed type, I suppose.

This male can understand me, if my calculations are correct. "You can understand me, can't you?" I narrowed my eyes at this male.

The male in front of me looked exasperated. "Yes, Max, I can understand you. I'm Iggy, remember-"

I cut across him. "Are there any black-haired black-eyed types among your species? I recall preferring those," I stated.

The male next to Iggy glared at me and stomped away. Iggy sighed. "You just offended Dylan for the fifth time this day. Max, if _you liked FANG,_ you could have just TOLD ME! I'm his twin!"

Ah. "So where can I find this...Fang ...male?"

Iggy slapped his face into his forehead. "We're childhood friends, Max. You and Fang are classmates. Seriously, I knew you were into that whole 'Anne Walker Biologist thing,' but isn't this going a bit too far?"

"No, " I snapped back. "I need to find an organism to document and present to the class." I squinted down at my paper. "I also need to bring that organism to class, so who better to choose?"

Iggy huffed. "Well, you didn't have to ask in that manner. Still, why not me?"

I gave him a feral grin. "Oh, I still like Fang. I just needed a legit reason to pounce on him. "

A black head near me slowly turned in my direction. Fang. He turned towards me with puppy dog eyes and said "Max, I love you! Knowing this will take all my frustration away!"

We ran towards each other, our lips mashing into each other's faces. Saliva strands flew into the air, hands grappling at each other's clothes, classmates running to the basement to escape our love, and Ms. Walker shouting, "PDA! PDA!" like some sort of alarm bell-

I woke up with a gasp. If only that were true.

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 **A/N: Hey guys, what do you think? Review!**


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